Yes!, or: How I Kidnapped the Boss's Daughter
by Mmmph
Summary: Daniel Bryan is just a regular guy looking to get a push before Wrestlemania... but somehow winds up binding, gagging, and kidnapping the boss's daughter, Stephanie McMahon, in the process? Daniel Bryan/Stephanie McMahon, light bondage.
1. Chapter 1

Looking out the eleventh floor window of the WWE headquarters, Daniel could see the sprawl of pale blue afternoon sky looming up over the city of Stamford, Connecticut, and below, the lush forests separating the building's lot from the city and its suburbs beyond. He felt extremely isolated; both because of the lofty heights of the executive floor of the building he stood in, and because of how distant the rest of the world seemed beyond that window's pane of glass. Puffy strands of cream-colored clouds lumbered along the wind on the distant horizon, and—for a moment—Daniel wished he was out there with them, and that he had never acted on the dumb impulse that had brought him standing there at that moment.

But he wasn't out there; he was in _here_, and there was nothing left to do now but wait. He sighed, tucked his hands in the pockets of his jeans, and abandoned his post at the window.

The executive office, however, was really no less an unnerving thing to look at. Every inch of it brimmed with class and eloquence and power. The carpet was awash in a shade of royal blue, the edges trimmed with gold embroidery, the center piece a silver circle that encased the '_WWE_' logo. Two of the walls that stretched up to the high ceiling were fairly standard, but one (the one he'd been looking out) was comprised of only nine-foot-tall panes of glass, and another was but polished and lacquered oak, and indented here and there to provide room for decoration. In one such indentation, a row of laminated awards and certificates and magazine covers stood proudly beside one another: beaming the WWE's accomplishments and all Mr. McMahon had achieved. And of course, the centerpiece of it all was the towering portrait of old Vince himself, standing tall and proud, his hands on his hips like Superman, his eyes looking wistfully and stoic off into the distance.

Daniel stood transfixed by the painting a moment, before prying his eyes loose and scanning them across the rest of the room's various portraits and paintings. He found some of the wrestlers who'd help build the company to what it was (Hulk Hogan, Randy Savage, Bret Hart, Shawn Michaels, Steve Austin, The Rock, John Cena) and, of course, he found Vince's son, Shane, immortalized in a (somewhat smaller and less grandiose) painting himself. But, oddly, he found no drawings, paintings, or photographs, ironically, of the one person he had an appointment with.

He shuffled across the room to the leather-backed chair seated across the big, oblong, hunk of wood that was the executive desk, and dropped himself in to wait. Looking at the enormity of both the room and the world outside was doing his anxiety no favors, and so he resolved to stare at the name plaque resting at the desk's rim.

It read: "_Stephanie McMahon, Chief Brand Officer_"

As if on cue, the sound of the door opening behind him pulled Daniel's head around to spot Stephanie herself sauntering into the room, the hall outside visible only briefly before the door fell quietly shut, and only the two of them remained.

Stephanie McMahon, though not quite the enigmatic force that was her father, and certainly not the hulking, imposing, figure that was her husband, carried her own sense of power about her all the same. She strode forth gracefully across the carpet in a blazer and skirt that matched its royal blue shade, her high-heeled shoes leaving little divots in the plush surface. Between her blazer's collar, a white shirt was cut in a classy line down above her breasts, and a string of pearls draped across her tanned collarbone. Her hair, a pretty shade of chestnut brown, was neatly groomed and framed a set of equally pretty facial features: vibrant green eyes, perfectly shaped eyebrows, pink lips that shined against the sunlight, and white, straight, teeth that imbued her with a glow when she smiled and showed them.

"Daniel," Stephanie greeted with one of those big, genial, smiles and extended her hand to him.

Daniel scrambled to his feet, swiped his own hand across his jeans in hope to dry the sweat in his palm, and shook. "Hey, Stephanie."

Her handshake was firm, definitely the grip of a McMahon, but her skin was soft and warm to touch, and Daniel felt a bit uncomfortable in the moment, so he was quick to pull away.

Stephanie gestured for him to sit, her big smile not dipping in the slightest, and Daniel was quick to obey. When he'd positioned himself back between the high, leather, armrests of the chair again, Stephanie sauntered up to the desk (his side, not the opposite) and sat herself on its edge so that she was towering over him. She folded her arms across her chest and cocked her head a bit on its side as she fixed those piercing green eyes.

"So… what can I do for you today, Daniel?"

Daniel pulled a deep breath, trying to still his nerves. This was the moment he'd been waiting for, and he was determined not to blow it so close to the finish line. "Well, Steph, you see… the thing is… um…"

"Yes?"

"Well, I just… um…"

"Daniel," Stephanie began, her tone soft and sweet. She laid a hand on his forearm and squeezed. "Whatever it is, you can tell me. I'm not my father, after all."

She laughed and that helped eased the tension.

"Alright, well… I was thinking, you know, with all this, kind of, like… 'hype' I'm getting from the people? You know? All the '_Yes!' _stuff and everything? I just… I know Wrestlemania's coming up, and I know you guys seem to have big plans and everything, but it's just… it's just I think maybe, well, maybe _I _should be getting a sort of, uh, push? You know? I mean, I really would love to be in the main event, competing for the championship, and I _know _there are a lot of people…"

He trailed off when his eyes met Stephanie's, boring down on him. Her smile hadn't left her face, but the warmth in it was gone, and when the corners lifted back to reveal her perfectly white teeth, Daniel thought she looked more like a predator than a friend.

"This is why you asked to meet with me, Daniel?"

"Well… yeah?"

Stephanie's eyes narrowed just a bit. "I see." She pushed herself from the desk and went sauntering off behind the chair, arms still folded across her chest, her face wearing a pensive expression as she looked up at the ceiling. Her heels poked into the carpeting, and Daniel turned to watch them disappear behind the chair; her tanned and toned calf muscles vanishing with them.

He was wondering if he was supposed to get up and follow when Stephanie's hands fell atop his shoulders, planting him in place. "And I suppose it's just 'coincidence' that you booked this meeting while both my father and my husband are overseas on the troop tour?"

Daniel, honestly, hadn't really considered that. "Oh, no, Steph. I-"

"Perhaps you thought Hunter and Daddy were too 'big and scary' to come bring your little plea to? Perhaps you thought you'd target 'Vince's little girl' with your request? After all, she _is_ just a girl, and girls have soft hearts, don't they?"

All of Daniel's fears and anxieties came pouring back down on him, and he was suddenly more uncomfortable than he'd been, maybe, his entire life. He made to stand and said: "You know what, look Stephanie, never mind the whole thing, I-"

Her hands drove hard on his shoulders till he plopped back down to the cushion. "Sit down, Daniel."

He did, though certainly not by choice. There was nothing he wanted more in that moment, in fact, than to get up and run right back out the door.

Stephanie returned to the front of the chair, and when he glanced up at her towering over him, her face had taken on a certain hint of malice, though—of course—the smile remained. "You came here today to try and take advantage of me, Daniel."

"_What_!?" He snapped.

"You did. Don't deny it. You came here because I'm a woman, and you wanted to use that against me."

Suddenly, the strange realization he'd had before about the office having no pictures of Stephanie hung up came back to him and clicked in place, making all this insensible madness sensible. Her father's very office was a shrine to everything the man loved, his company, his wealth, and above all: all the men he'd come to admire and respect and care for over the years… but the heart only had so much room. Stephanie had been left out, and now, perhaps, that had turned her somewhat resentful to wrestlers, and maybe even all men in general.

Daniel put his hands up and tried standing again to explain his innocent intentions-

-but Stephanie shoved him back down. "I told you to remain seated."

"Look, Steph, honestly, I-"

"Be quiet," Stephanie commanded so harshly, Daniel could only sit gaping up at her in silence. Her eyes looked him over head-to-toe, seemingly scrutinizing every last inch of him. She sighed and chewed at the corner of her lip before saying, "The question now is: what do we do about this… _act of insubordination_?"

"Insubordi- Stephanie! I'm trying to tell you-"

"I told you to be _quiet!_"

Daniel fell silent again at once. His heart attempted hammering out of his ribcage.

Stephanie's eyes, green and cold, held his own a moment before the woman pursed her lips, sighed, and shoved off the desk to circle around to the other side. She lowered into Vince's massive 'throne' and swiveled the seat back and forth almost playfully while she continued staring at Daniel. Then she halted, slid back a cabinet near her knees, and produced a glass and a flask. She twisted the flask's cap and poured a bronze liquid for herself that Daniel could only assume was some sort of whiskey. Stephanie raised the glass to her mouth and lowered her upper lip over its rim to tip back some of the mystery drink. Finished, she smacked her lips and set the glass back to the table with a _clink_.

"Pull your chair here beside me, Daniel."

"W-What?"

Stephanie lifted one of her perfectly-shaped eyebrows. "Did you not hear me? Or do you not want to listen? Either way, maybe I could make a phone call to 'Daddy' and tell him about how much you've been pestering me. Or, of course, I could call up Hunter and fill him on your… little plot to take advantage of me. I'm sure my husband would just _love _to hear about such a thing."

Daniel gulped. Stephanie stared on, her smile now a pretentious little smirk.

With no other option, he stood, awkwardly took hold of the chair he sat in, and lugged it around the side of the desk. When it was plopped down only a little bit away from Stephanie, she commanded him again to sit. Daniel did, his head spinning with how he'd gotten into this whole mess and _why _exactly it was even happening to him.

Before he even had time to consider vocalizing those concerns, Stephanie slipped out of her high heels, extended her legs before her, and laid her bare feet across his lap. Daniel looked from Stephanie, to her feet, and back. "Uh…"

"I've had a long day, Daniel, and I would like my feet rubbed," she said as casually as if they were discussing the weather.

"By… me?"

Stephanie's smirk lifted a bit higher. "That's right. Now are you going to massage my feet, Daniel, or do we have to make a phone call?"

Daniel looked incredulously down at the bare things laid across his thigh. They were pretty feet, in truth, well manicured, clean, high-arched, but that didn't mean he wanted to _massage _them. He looked pleadingly back to her once more and asked, "Are you serious, Steph?"

Stephanie's reply was to pick up the receiver of the executive phone atop the desk and hover her finger menacingly above the numbers.

"Okay!" Daniel pleaded. He looked back to her waiting feet, sighed, and went to work. He took hold of them at the ankle delicately (he was still half-convinced this was some insane test of loyalty or something) and gently pressed his thumb into her soles, just above the swell of her heel. Having never given a foot massage, he simply ran circles along her arch, listening to his own heart beating in his chest.

"Daniel," Stephanie's stern voice demanded his attention, "they're _feet_, not flowers. Don't be so gentle. They're not fragile. _Massage_. And you better massage well, because if I'm not satisfied with your job, I might just make that phone call anyway."

"But this isn't _fair_, Stephanie, I didn't do anything wrong!"

Stephanie rolled her eyes. "If you speak without being spoken to again, I pick up the phone. Understood?"

Daniel glared.

"Do you under_stand, _Daniel?"

"Yes!"

She smirked. "Then start rubbing and keep your mouth shut."

Daniel begrudgingly went back to massaging her big, stupid, feet. His incredulousness and shock had passed, and now he was only angry that she was treating him so cruelly and childishly. He gripped her foot like it was an opponent in the ring and she certainly didn't have to worry about him being 'gentle' anymore: he burrowed his thumb into her soles and rubbed deep, long, lines up to her toes, down to her heels, and back.

Miraculously, Stephanie actually seemed to be _enjoying _this new aggressive assault on her feet, and before long she slid down a bit more comfortably in her father's throne, picked up the glass of booze to sip at, and closed her eyes. A little, pleasurable, moan even escaped her throat now and then.

Daniel went on angrily rubbing, hating the self-satisfied little smile Stephanie wore as he was forced to massage her.

After awhile, she spoke without opening her eyes, and the tone of her voice had shifted from one of command to one of nostalgia. "Do you know when the last time my husband rubbed my feet was, Daniel?"

He figured it was a rhetorical question, and didn't quite trust his tongue yet not to shout at her, so he simply rubbed on in silence.

"A long time," Stephanie answered herself. She sipped at her drink. "A long, long, time."

Daniel sat massaging her awhile until he grew too impatient to keep quiet. "How long do I have to do this for, Stephanie!?"

"Until I tell you to stop."

"This is _ridiculous_!"

Her eyes opened and bore angrily into his own. "Shut _up_ and get back to work. _Now_."

"No. _No!_ Forget this!" He snapped, his anger finally overtaking his fear. He threw Stephanie's stupid feet off his lap and stood. "I don't even care. Make your little phone call, Steph. This is insane. I'm out of here."

Stephanie's face scrunched up furiously. "You sit back down right now, Daniel!"

He threw up his hands and headed for the door.

"_Fine!_" Stephanie's enraged voice trailed after him. "Fine, if that's how you want it."

He turned back to see her lifting the phone to her ear and punching in numbers on the number pad. "Are you serious? You're _actually _going to try and get me in trouble with your dad and husband? Even after I rubbed your stinking feet!?"

"_Oh-ho-ho-ho,_" Stephanie began, her face turning a deep shade of red. "You don't even _know _the kind of trouble you're in for _that _little remark, Daniel. You don't even _know_."

"Steph, put the damned phone down, would you?"

"Get out of my office."

"_Steph_!"

She went on dialing.

Something came over Daniel then. Some angry, impromptu, rush that sent him storming back across the office, marching up to the desk, and ripping the phone out of her hand to slam back atop the base.

Stephanie stared up at him, her eyes as wide as saucers, her mouth agape. "How dare you! How _dare _you, Daniel! Get _out _of my office!"

"You're insane, Stephanie."

"_Get out!_" She wailed, lifting out of the chair and stomping barefoot around its edge to stick an authoritative finger up to his nose. "_Get out right now or I'll scream!_"

"Why are you doing this!?"

"_SECURITY!_" Stephanie wailed so shrill and loud, Daniel winced. She opened her mouth to do it again-

-and Daniel wrapped her up in his arm, pinning her _own_ arms to her sides, and clamped his hand firmly over her big mouth to shut her up.

The only sound Stephanie could manage then was: "_MMMMMMPH!_" As her wide and furious eyes flicked to his own and she wrestled and squirmed against his arm.

"Would you just calm down!?" He demanded.

Stephanie blared a series of muffled protests into his hand: "_Mmmmph! MMMMPH! GRM! MMMF! MMM!_"

His eyes floated over her shoulder to a stand of WWE branded merchandise. When they landed on a matching pair of white hand towels, Daniel acted almost on instinct alone as he shuffled Stephanie over to the table, snatched them up with his free hand, and released her.

Stephanie's mouth opened wide-

-and Daniel plugged it up immediately with one of the towels.

Her eyes filled with such incredulous, indignant, fury, Daniel had to spin her around at once to avoid looking at them. He used the second towel to loop over her head and pull tightly around her mouth, locking the first one in place and effectively gagging his boss' daughter.

Before he even _considered _taking a moment to ponder the consequences that would likely come with that action, he yanked the belt from his jeans, pinned her wrists together behind her at the small of her back, and tightened it, binding her in place.

When Stephanie spun back on him, every inch of her face above her gagged mouth tightened and reddened with her smoldering fury, Daniel could only think: _I just bound and gagged Vince McMahon's daughter…_

_…what have I done?_


	2. Chapter 2

Daniel Bryan found himself once again staring out the towering panes of glass that made up the executive office's south-facing wall. This time, however, the sun had fallen under the western horizon, the city beyond the forest had come alive with lights under the velvety-blue night sky, and the WWE headquarters parking lot had grown illuminated as well; spotted here and there with dull yellow cones of light spilling from the bellies of lampposts. The lot had been brimming at four-thirty in the afternoon, but now, at nearly six o'clock, it was all but emptied. Daniel watched the last few cars' headlights come on one-by-one and head out single-file into the narrow passage that would lead them to the highway, and to home. When it was done, only a smattering of parked cars remained, and (hopefully) they'd be gone soon enough as well.

Daniel turned back to his prisoner, laid out atop the leather sofa at the office's far wall. Stephanie McMahon had been stripped of her grace, her elegance, her _power_, and all that was left was a furious, feral, beast-of-a-woman. She was lying on her side, her wrists, waist, knees, and ankles, all bound tightly with white, cotton, rope Daniel had ventured to the nearest storage closet to retrieve. He'd gone hiking more than a few times in his younger years, and so had quite a firm grasp of knots and ropes. The result was that Stephanie was secured, but not uncomfortable, and most certainly not going anywhere.

As he neared, her eyes glared up into his, and her teeth sunk a bit more aggressively into the gag he'd fastened around her mouth. He thought she resembled a war-horse, chomping at the bit, eager to charge into battle. Her hair lay in sweaty tangles around her red face, and as Daniel lowered to a knee before her and brushed some aside, she launched into another series of furious mumbles and grunts.

"Calm down," he said, though it sounded more like a plead than a command, even though _he _was the one with all the power then. "If you settle down, you might get that gag off your mouth."

Stephanie's eyes narrowed contemptuously. Clearly, she wasn't thrilled with her vocal freedom being bargained with in such a manner. Her lips moved around the towel wedged between them, and another series of—thankfully quieter—grumbles floated menacingly his way.

"Look, I'm sorry I trussed you all up like this, alright? But you were acting _nuts_, Stephanie. What was I supposed to do?"

"_GRMMM!_" She growled into the towel, hurling herself forward a bit.

Daniel flinched away. Even bound and gagged, Stephanie McMahon refused to be tamed. He scratched at his beard and mulled over a different approach. "There's no one left in the building, Steph. They're all filing out. It's just me and you in here. There's no use in being all upset. The only way you're getting out of those ropes is by calming yourself down so we can both be reasonable adults about this… uh, situation."

Her expression smoldered with anger, but, for the first time, Stephanie didn't try making any noise.

"Better," Daniel said. "Now will you promise not to shout and scream if I take that gag off?"

Stephanie teeth sunk into the towel; her eyes sunk into Daniel's. Clearly with a bit of effort, though, she nodded.

Daniel sighed. He didn't trust it, but what else was there to do? He _had _to talk to her at some point. Stephanie leaned eagerly forth and Daniel begrudgingly reached around the back of her head to work loose the towel's knot.

When he pulled it away, Stephanie immediately spit out the second (very damp now) towel and growled, "How _dare _you put a gag in my mouth! Untie me! _You untie me right now, Daniel! _Right_ - now!_"

"Look, I said I was sorry. I-"

"Shut the hell up!" Stephanie barked. "I don't want to hear anymore of your pathetic little excuses dribbling from your pathetic little mouth. Just untie me."

"I'm not going to do that, Steph."

"_Untie me!_"

"If you keep shouting, I'm putting the gag back in."

"If you put that thing back in my mouth, I swear to _God_, Daniel-"

He lifted the towel, shaking it balefully before her lips.

Stephanie's eyes narrowed on it, and just a bit of her anger was supplemented with consternation. When she went on, her volume had lowered considerably but her tone was still filled with venom. "You listen to me, Daniel Bryan: You can't even _begin_ to understand how screwed you are for what you've done to me. You're only digging your hole deeper and deeper now. Every extra _second _you keep me tied up like this is another _month _of hell your life is going to become! Do you understand me!? You get these God-damned ropes off of me right this instant!"

"You came on to me!" Daniel protested. "First you have me rub your feet, then you start drinking your stupid drink and talking about how long it's been since your husband did that for you!? Are you serious!? And when I try to walk away, you _threaten_ me!?"

"I can _do _whatever the hell I want and not be questioned by some little peon like you," Stephanie growled. "And how dare you insinuate I was 'coming on' to you. I'm married, and you disgust me. Now I'm telling you for the final time: untie me. You can't keep me bound up like this forever, so quit wasting _both _our time and let me _go_!"

Daniel stared at her. "And what are you going to do?"

Stephanie barked a mirthless laugh. "What am I going to do? Are you serious? First, I'm having your sorry ass thrown in jail for assaulting me and then holding me against my will. Then I'm having you fired. Then…" She sneered. "Then much worse is going to come your way, Daniel. _Much _worse."

He grimaced. "How could you be so… _evil_?"

Stephanie's sneer only grew more menacing. "I told you: because I'm Stephanie McMahon, and I can do whatever the _hell_ I want. Now untie me. Right now."

He shook his head reproachfully and held up the wadded, damp, towel she'd spat onto his lap. "Open your mouth."

"_No!_" Stephanie quickly protested, narrowing her eyes indignantly onto the towel. "You're not shutting me up again! I will not be silenced! I will not- _GRMMF!_" He wedged it between her teeth anyway and packed it in with his fingers, ignoring the scowling woman's muffled demands as he tied the second towel back in place.

"There," Daniel said, finishing the knot. "That will keep your big mouth shut for awhile, _won't _it, Stephanie?"

Stephanie glowered up at him, grumbling and grunting her rage into her gag. She writhed relentlessly against her ropes, twisting at her arms and jerking at her legs and rolling side-to-side, desperate to find some vestige of hope that she might be able to set herself free. When she finally stopped squirming, her face an even deeper shade of red and her hair clustered around her sweaty face, she sunk her teeth into the gag and screamed in frustration, heaving herself sideways with one last attempt at powering her way out of her binds. The only thing she accomplished, however, was to roll off the couch and land on her ass on the floor. Her eyes floated up to Daniel and narrowed furiously, though the defeat in them could be seen as well; somewhere deep within her, Stephanie must have know she was absolutely powerless.

"Now just sit there on the floor and cool off," he told her. "I'm going for a walk."

The room filled at once with her indignant, muffled, protests.

Daniel managed a smirk of his own, not dissimilar (he hoped) from the way Stephanie had smirked so condescendingly at him earlier. "Sorry, Steph. I can't understand a thing you're trying to say."

"_MMMMMPH!_"

"You know, you're a much more tolerable person with a gag on."

Stephanie grunted and stomped her bare feet against the carpet and threw her head side to side, flinging her hair about in a vortex of brown waves. She looked like a little child throwing a temper tantrum, and for whatever reason, the image calmed Daniel a bit. For all her power and pull in the company he worked for, Stephanie, like anyone else, was just a person. Not some Goddess; just a human being. Nothing more.

"I'll be right back," he told her, heading for the office door. "Don't go anywhere on me."

Stephanie rolled onto her stomach so she could lift her head and fix him with one last look of pure malice before he slipped into the hall outside and closed the door on the disturbing image.

Free from her piercing, accusatory, eyes, Daniel felt the relief wash over him at once. In the office, even bound and gagged, Stephanie's presence lay palpably heavy on the air, but out there, in the abandoned hall, he was liberated. Behind the door, of course, he could still hear her somewhat-muted grunting and thumping of her feet, but it was really only audible if you were listening, and Daniel took solace, at least, in that. It meant no one had (hopefully) heard their little… squabble.

Before him, the main lights of the building had been shut down, and only the energy-efficient glowing domes that ran intermittently along the wall at his ankles lit the path. Daniel walked alongside them, watching the light send white paint across his jeans every time he crossed one, and slowing having the sound of Stephanie's fury replaced by the low and perpetual _hummmm _of the building's air conditioning.

He reached an intersection and poked his head out to survey it. All four halls, including the one he'd come from, were utterly empty, save for the orange power cord of a vacuum cleaner, which was plugged into a wall outlet and ran down the opposite end of the hall before disappearing into a room. Daniel knew at once the chord belonged to the building's janitor, and realized with a sudden sense of urgent dread that sooner or later, the executive office would have to be cleaned.

And, of course, Stephanie would have to be freed.

The image of Vince's 'little girl' stomping about, unbound and enraged, in the building sent a chill up Daniel's spine. He, apparently, was still afraid of Stephanie McMahon after all.

Daniel leaned against the wall and cupped his hand over his brow. He had to think; had to figure a way out of this mess of a situation he'd gotten himself into. Clearly, Stephanie was far too furious to 'talk it over' with him anytime soon, but time was something he did not have the luxury of spending in wait for that moment of calm, when rational discussion could take place. He wished if the whole mad series of events that had led to his restraining her had to have taken place, they'd taken place _any_where but the WWE headquarters. It was like slapping the president in the oval office of the White House: there was just no way to get away with it.

He leaned back out to peek into the orange-cord-filled hall. The cord remained stationary, but the room it led into had moved one room closer to his position by then, and he could hear the subtle sounds of the vacuum at work. He muttered a curse under his breath and stared down at the rectangle of glass that peaked out into the parking lot at the hall's end. He wished he could just _leave; _leave and forget the whole thing had ever happened. But, of course, that wasn't an option with Stephanie still all tied up in her office.

Unless, of course… he took her with him.

Daniel scratched at his beard. Was that even an option? Sure, it would buy him time to hopefully calm Stephanie down… hell, it might even take some of the fire out of her by getting her away from her 'home turf'. But if he took her out of the building, that would go beyond just restraining someone against their will, and enter the territory of 'kidnapping'. Daniel Bryan was no kidnapper. He was just a guy—a _wrestler_—he didn't want to do anything so heinous as _kidnap _someone, let alone his boss's daughter!

The janitor's melodic whistling drifted down the hall. Daniel stole a peek to see an aging man with a few wisps of grey hair left to his head sauntering his way. He snapped his head back, returned down the hall he'd come from, and made the quick and rash decision: kidnapping or not - he had to get Stephanie McMahon out of there.

When he'd slipped back into the office, she was right where he'd left her, bound face-down on the floor, her legs bent at the knee so her bare feet were dangling above the shapely curves of her butt. She was twisting furiously at her ankles, trying to work them free, but when Daniel closed the door, she stopped, opting instead to lift her head to him and mumble some more angry nonsense into her gag.

"Just be _quiet_ for once!" He pleaded, scanning the room for his jacket. He found it draped across the office chair, scooped it up, and slipped his arms in at once.

When he faced Stephanie again, she was staring intently at him with a perplexed look plastered to her face.

"I'm taking you out of here."

She shook her head immediately, eyes growing wide enough to show every last bit of white around their green center.

"I have to. Janitor's coming. I'll only take you down the road to the nearest hotel until you cool off."

"_Mm-mm!_" Stephanie protested, and that particular mumble was clear as day: she was not crazy about the plan. "_Mm-mm! MM-MM!_"

"And you're going to keep very, _very_, quiet while I'm moving you, Steph."

Stephanie grew livid. She shook her head and began blaring shouts into the gag even louder than before.

Daniel ignored them. Instead, he looked to the stand of WWE merchandise again and found a blue and yellow nylon tote bag with the '_WWE_' logo branded on its center. He retrieved the thing almost on reflex, moved to Stephanie, and stretched the open end as wide as it would go. Stephanie's eyes widened as its shadow fell over them, but then her face (as well as he neck, shoulders, and most of her upper body) were lost under the bag's nylon draping. Daniel yanked the bag strings tight, cinching them around her waist. Within, Stephanie's muffled cries were only slightly muted, but at least she was blindfolded in a way then, and if someone _did _happen to spot him, they'd only see him with a squirming, bagged and barefoot, prisoner and not the owner of the company's daughter.

He scooped her belly onto his arm and stood, lugging her sideways and taking the brunt of Stephanie and her weight across his shoulder. Her feet kicked, but without shoes they didn't do much good against his thigh and abs. Daniel crossed to the door and cracked it to peek outside. The orange cord was in _there _hall now, but two rooms down. Daniel wasted no time slipping outside, closing the door delicately behind him, and lugging his bagged and gagged prisoner down the hall in the opposite direction of the janitor.

Stephanie kicked and attempted screaming the whole way.

Daniel found the elevators waiting around the first bend, and was quick to punch the call button. The doors slid back soon enough, and then some of the tension dissolved as he carried Steph into the small, private, confines of the elevator lift. He punched the lobby button, the doors slid shut, and then he was alone with only the annoying 'muzak' of the elevator, and Stephanie's interminable grunting and grumbling atop his shoulder.

At the lobby, the doors split a seam into the wide and lofty dome that was the headquarter's main entrance. It was, thankfully, empty, save for a little man with glasses and a novel sitting behind the front desk, but the desk was far away, the elevator did not disturb him, and the building's rear entrance was close enough to reach unnoticed. Daniel hauled his noisy captive to the doubled glass doors, slid back the locks that bridged over the top and center of the doorway, and opened them onto the cool, night, breeze of the parking lot.

The myriad of outdoor noises (cars on the distant highway, wind sweeping pebbles across the macadam, an occasional bird's chirp) awaken a whole new fit of struggling from Stephanie, who launched into a desperate writhe atop his shoulder at once and blared protests into her gag.

Daniel walked as quickly as a man could without running and was eternally grateful for parking so close to the side of the building, where his little, green, Volkswagen Sedan rested between two strips of yellow paint. He fished his keys out of his jean pocket, angled them at the trunk, and thumbed a button. The trunk popped with an audible '_click_' and Daniel wasted no time hurrying to its rim, lowering his shoulder, and dumping Stephanie McMahon inside.

It wasn't exactly a 'spacious' trunk, but there was room enough for his prisoner to fold her knees to her stomach and lay sideways. He loosed the tote bag's handle strings and yanked it away. Revealed, Stephanie blinked to adjust to her eyes newfound freedom. When they were accustomed to the trunk's dim lighting, she narrowed them incredulously onto Daniel and shook her head.

"_MMMMM_-"

He slammed the trunk shut, sidled around to the driver's side, and climbed in.

As he plugged the ignition and started his old car up, he found himself wondering once again just what the hell he was doing.

Instead of thinking on it, though, he drove.


	3. Chapter 3

Neon lights blared from the motel's sign, colorful letters set in a vertical, descending order from 'M' to 'L', and looming over the mostly deserted parking lot to splash a soft glow of reds and blues across the macadam. Beyond, a one-story stretch of apartments hooked around the lot in an elbow formation, ending in a little glowing box that must have been the lobby and registration area. Daniel guided his car beneath the neon lights, eyed the lobby, and thought better of parking so close to it. He cut the wheel hard and drove over to the far end of the lot, where a dark stretch of two, sectioned-off, apartments rested on a little island of their own. He slowed to a halt between flanking yellow lines, killed the ignition, and climbed out into the cool, crisp, night air.

At the car's trunk, he could hear the muted thumping of Stephanie pounding her feet against the interior, and was at once thankful he'd found a spot so isolated. He knelt so his lips were close to the trunk's seam and said, "If you can hear me, Stephanie, I'll have you out of there in a few minutes. Just please calm down, alright?"

Faintly, he heard her muffled grunt and her feet came harder against the trunk, sending a war-drum of fury pounding into the quiet night. Daniel recoiled and ran a hand nervously through his air as he scanned the lot and the adjacent street, dappled periodically with the dull glow of lampposts. It was near midnight, thankfully, and the only thing that greeted him was a solitary car cruising past indifferently on the bypass beyond. Taking some semblance of peace of mind in that fact, he left Stephanie to try and kick her way out of the trunk and headed for the splash of light coming from the motel office at the opposite end of the lot.

He walked briskly through the cold night with his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans and his arms pinched tightly to his body for warmth. When he reached the office, he was thankful to hop up the short lip of the curb and slip into the warm interior. At once, he was greeted by the sight of a short, balding, man with ruddy cheeks and horn rimmed glasses, leaning back in a chair behind a desk and poking around absentmindedly at his cell phone. Daniel approached, and when the man did not seem to notice or care he was there, lifted a fist to his mouth and cleared his throat.

The man's eyes floated above the rim of his phone and his brow furrowed somewhat impatiently. He tucked the phone away and leaned against the desk between them. "Single or double?"

Daniel frowned. "What?"

"_Bed_. Single or double bed room?"

"Oh, doub-" Daniel caught himself, laughed, shook his head. "Well, I mean a single bed. It's just me, so… why would I need two beds, right? Heh. Single. Please."

The man's eyes narrowed and he heaved a sardonic sigh. "It's $70 a night."

"Right." Daniel fished into his back pocket, plucked out his wallet, and slapped a $100 bill on the counter. "Say, uh, are those rooms at the far end of the lot available by any chance?"

The man pursed his lips, leaned back, and scooped a key from a rack full of them. He tossed it on the counter and it slid into Daniel's waiting palm. Daniel flipped the plastic oval the key was attached to around and read off the number '14'. He squinted back out into the night and could just barely make out a '14' in white print across one of the doors beside his car. He smiled. "Hey, thanks man."

He had one foot out the office door, eager to be free from the somewhat-rude motel clerk, when the man's voice froze him in place: "Hey, hold on."

Daniel took a deep breath and turned back.

"Your change." The man said, sliding a $20 and a $10 across the counter. "You know, some other asshole might've kept that."

"Right," Daniel laughed, leaning back to scoop up his change. "Thanks, man."

"Yeah."

When he'd returned near the car, miraculously, Stephanie was still pounding away within, seemingly with an infinite amount of energy at her disposal. Daniel shook his head and hurried past to plug their room's door with his fresh new key. The thing swung back noisily on ungreased hinges and Daniel stuck his arm in and groped blindly for a light switch. When he found it, he flicked it on and sprayed the room in the dull, bronze, lighting that was accustom to cheap motels. Life on the road as a wrestler had shown Daniel his fair share of cheap motels, and this one could have easily swapped places with a dozen others and no one would have been even remotely suspicious. It was a small room, a navy-blue double bed the focal piece beneath the domed light overhead, a small flat-screen jutting out from the wall across it, a narrow closet and bathroom at the far end, and two little dressers flanking the bed; one with a lamp, the other with a phone to the office. The room's only somewhat-distinguishing feature was a rather ugly, purple, loveseat and a half-dying plant beside the main door.

But the room was quiet and it was isolated, and that was all Daniel was looking for anyway.

He returned to the trunk and cast a long, vigilant, sweep of his eyes across the lot, the sidewalk, the road, the office, and the other apartments. When he was satisfied there was not a curious eye to be seen amongst them, he thumbed the trunk button on his car key and lifted the lid.

Within, Stephanie laid across the floor wrapped up tightly in her ropes, her eyes—wide as saucers and no less furiously indignant than they'd been when he'd last seen them stuffing her _in _the trunk—found his and her teeth sunk so deeply into the gag he'd tied around her mouth, he was briefly convinced she was going to chew right through it. Then she was swinging her weight around towards the back of the trunk and thrusting her bound and bare feet at him, trying to drive her heels into _him _instead of the trunk interior. Daniel side-stepped the attack, caught her under the knees, and pulled her forward till her thigh and butt came sliding up onto the trunk's rim. Stephanie growled and grunted and thrashed and writhed, but Daniel worked his shoulder up under her belly and gently lifted her free from the trunk. The taste of cool, night, air must have further ignited Stephanie's desperation for freedom, for as soon as he had her out, her squirming increased exponentially. Daniel slapped the trunk lid down as fast as he could and hurried Stephanie off into the apartment before her muffled shouting woke the whole lot.

Inside, he kicked the door shut behind them, crossed to the bed, and eagerly lowered her twisting and contorting body down onto the mattress, his shoulder free from her weight and his sides and abdomen free from her knees' brutal assault. Stephanie rolled onto her back and glared with contemptuous intensity up at him as her teeth ground the towel between them and her nostrils flared in steady, furious, rhythm.

Daniel swallowed. "Alright. See? I told you I'd get you out. I didn't want to put you in that trunk, Steph, but you were acting crazy."

"_Mermeph mmfrg mmmmf-" _Stephanie began mumbling, apparently realized how foolish she sounded, and cut herself abruptly short with a frustrated grunt and a jerk at her ropes.

"I'm going to let you go once you calm down, alright?" He pleaded, his hands raised placatingly. "You just need to cool off and think this through. I didn't do anything before you went on your little rampage against me, threatening to get me in trouble and all that. I didn't do a single _thing_, Steph. Now just… just lay there and be quiet and _calm down_."

"_GRMF!_" Stephanie grunted and began flittering her eyes back and forth between Daniel's own and the towel tied around her mouth.

"That gag is staying where it is for now, Steph," he explained calmly. "I don't trust that big mouth of yours to be set loose just yet."

Stephanie squinted.

Daniel ignored her. He returned to the front of the room and tugged back the big curtain layering over the window just enough to peek outside. The lot was as empty and dark as he'd left it, and Daniel breathed relief at that. It meant he'd actually pulled it off: he'd gotten Stephanie to a secure location without attracting the slightest bit of attention. The notion, despite the unnerved feeling still swimming around in the pit of his stomach, brought a smile to his face. He'd gone from a guy on the cusp of potentially losing his job because he didn't want to rub his boss's daughter's feet to one who was completely (he hoped) in control of the situation. He glanced back at Stephanie, and the smile he wore must've been a genuine one, as Steph growled like a cat ready to pounce when she glimpsed it and began writhing again.

His smile widened. "Alright, Steph," he began, crossing back to the bed, "I'm going to get in the shower and _you_…" He looked over the bed. "…are going to have to be tied down for awhile."

"_Mmm?_" Stephanie frowned and shook her head.

"Yup. And by the time I get out, I think we'll be ready to talk this over too, so… just don't fight me, alright?"

Stephanie was not even remotely conciliated by his words, and the second he took hold of her, she began grunting and grumbling and twisting every which way to avoid his hands. Despite her best effort, he managed to steady her and hoisted her as gently as he could back onto the mattress before crawling atop her legs to sit and pin them in place beneath him. He took hold of the coil of rope binding her ankles and tugged at the knots till he could unravel some slack. When he had, he reeled it out, leaned forward, and tied it off around the metal framing beneath the mattress, pinning Steph's legs and feet down in place. He pivoted back around on his knees and was met with Stephanie's enraged, incredulous, expression, frantically shaking her head back and forth. He ignored her, shifted her body up towards the head of the bed and straddled her waist.

"Alright, Steph. I'm going to have to briefly untie your hands. Please don't punch and slap and scratch me. …please?"

Stephanie stared at him and in just a few short moments, calmed herself entirely. She nodded, trying—Daniel thought—too look as innocent and harmless as she could.

He didn't buy it in the slightest. She was just anxious to get a chance to clobber on him. Daniel knew it, and so exercised every bit of caution he could. He moved up to straddle her stomach, worked his arms around to the small of her back, and slowly freed up her wrists. The moment they came loose, Stephanie ripped them around in front of her and balled them to fists, but Daniel snatched them up quick, tucked one down against her body to pin in place it with his knee, and looped a coil of rope around the other before wrestling it up to the corner post of the bed. Stephanie roared into her gag, but there was nothing she could do to stop him from cinching off a knot between her wrist and the post, binding it firmly in place. The rope that had been circling her waist was just loose enough for him to tug loose, and when he had it, he allowed Stephanie's other hand to come free, caught it as he had the first, and worked it up to the opposite bed post. He tied it as he had the other and slid off the bed at once, eager to be free from Stephanie's thrashing.

The result of his work: Stephanie McMahon wasn't going anywhere. She was stretched out from end-to-end on the mattress, her ankles bound together and tethered to the foot of the bed, her wrists stretched out to either side, tethered to the posts. Her teeth chewed furiously into her gag as she tested her new position's security with a few tugs from her barely-mobile limbs. When she, like Daniel, must have realized the helplessness of her situation, her eyes flicked his way and bore into them with all their green, intense, rage.

"Comfy?"

"_Mmmrrrrgmf!_"

"I'll be right out," he told her, heading for the bathroom. "Don't go anywhere on me, alright Steph?"

Her eyes narrowed as she slowly shook her head, fuming.

The bathroom was, as expected, a typical motel bathroom: small, cramped, and not entirely what you'd call 'clean', but the shower worked and there was plenty of soap and shampoo, and Daniel wasted no time getting the hot water going, stripping off his clothes, and hopping in to the steaming glass enclosure. He stuck his face under the shower head's stream and let the hot water run across his eyes and face. The danger and craziness of everything that had happened in the last few hours came to his mind in lucid clarity then, and Daniel had to take a moment to calm his nerves. When they'd calmed, it was only him and the water in peaceful harmony again, and that was alright. He decided everything would be okay. It usually was. He would just have to hold together until it _got _okay.

He climbed out a few minutes later after washing up and plucked a white towel from the rack to wrap his waist. He had no fresh change of clothes, and—depending on how long this little 'incident' with Stephanie played out—considered rectifying that problem as soon as possible.

In the apartment's main room again, Stephanie was, obviously, where Daniel had left her, though he judged by the redness in her cheeks, the messy tangles her hair had fallen around her brow, and the slight gleaming of perspiration on her bare arms and legs, she had tried with everything in her to ensure she _wouldn't _have been there. He sauntered up the foot of the bed and laid his hands on his hips. Stephanie looked him over, her indignant expression briefly exchanged for one of slight confusion.

Daniel looked his own half-nakedness over and shrugged. "No clothes."

Stephanie's eyes met his and held.

"Look, Steph, are you ready to talk like adults yet? You know, no shouting and threatening and insults or anything? Just, like, _talking_?"

Stephanie eagerly nodded.

"Because _last _time we tried this, you know, you-"

"_Mmf,_" she grunted to interject, and when he looked her way, she nodded again.

Daniel sighed. "Well… alright."

He shuffled around the edge of the bed and seated himself beside Stephanie's chest. Apparently overtaken by her desperate urge to speak again, Stephanie obediently and calmly leaned forward and bowed her head so that Daniel could remove the gag. He pursed his lips, wary of a trap, but reached around and undid the towel's knot anyway. When it was loose, Stephanie leaned back and Daniel gently worked the damp center from between her teeth. Steph worked the second towel up out of her mouth, and Daniel took that one away too.

For awhile, neither of them said anything. Daniel watched her cautiously, ready to gag her back up again quick if she started in screaming and shouting, but Stephanie only sat, quiet and calm, occasionally casting a sideways glance his way. For someone tied to a motel bed, and who'd spent the last hour thrashing about and roaring what must have been endless obscenities and threats into a towel, Stephanie McMahon somehow looked entirely dignified sitting there then; she'd once again become Vince's little princess, pretty, smart, stoic.

"Well… you can talk now," Daniel spoke into the silence that had draped the room heavily between them. "So… talk."

Stephanie faced him. "Alright, Daniel. You win. I was… wrong before. I was cruel and unfair and, honestly? I probably got what was coming to me. I'm not angry with you. I understand now. You did what you had to."

Daniel squinted, untrusting of this 'new' Stephanie that had emerged. "Oh yeah? Just like that, huh? I'm suddenly entirely forgiven?"

"I didn't say that," Stephanie went on calmly, "Of course I'm not happy that you tied me up, put a gag on my mouth, and stuffed me in the trunk of your car, Daniel, but… I also understand I'm just as responsible for all that as you are. We both made mistakes. Now… let's be done with this, alright Daniel? Let this be over."

"…what do you mean?"

"You can untie me now," Stephanie said, tugging ever-so-slightly at her bound wrist. "You don't have to keep me tied up to the bed like this, Daniel. I've got my anger under control. We can be reasonable adults here."

Daniel ran his fingers through his beard, examining her. "Hmm. You want to know what I think, Steph? I think you've realized anger and threats haven't gotten you anywhere, and now you're trying to play the 'nice' card so I untie you. But when I do? I think you're going to punch me in the face and go running out that door."

Stephanie smiled. "Daniel… don't be ridiculous."

"…no," he said. "No, not yet. I'm not untying you just yet, Steph. If you want to talk, we can talk, but you're staying strapped down to that bed while we do."

Stephanie's smile remained plastered to her face, but Daniel thought her eyes grew a bit more cold above it as she stared. "Daniel… untie me."

"No, Steph."

She swallowed, slowly looked away, and her fingers rubbed meticulously against one another at either corner of the bed posts where her hands were draped helplessly out to her sides. "You truly are an incompetent moron, aren't you?"

_There's the Stephanie I know, _Daniel thought, though the sudden venom in her tone still managed to catch him off-guard. "Steph, come on, don't-"

"Your tiny pea-sized brain hasn't even put it together yet, has it?" She asked with a little sardonic titter. "You absolute _idiot_, Daniel, do you really think this is going to last much longer? Have you not considered that the WWE Headquarters is filled _to the brim _with security cameras? Security cameras that watched you hogtie and _gag _me, kidnap me, carry me to your stinking little pathetic car and stuff me in your God-damned rotten trunk!? Are you really _that _stupid!?"

Daniel gaped. Security cameras. He honestly hadn't considered that.

Stephanie's face came alight with cruel joy. "You _are_! You really _are _that stupid!" She laughed. "Oh my God, this is perfect… just perfect. Kidnapped by the mentally challenged. Daniel… oh, Daniel you are in for it. When my husband finds out what you've done to me? You can forget about just being 'fired', you moron. He's going to see you'll have to move to a different _country _before you ever find work again!"

Daniel lifted off the bed and began pacing the length of it with his hands in his hair. Cameras. How could he have been so stupid?

Stephanie's grating laughter pulled his attention back her way. "As soon as someone figures out I'm gone? It's over for you Daniel." Her lips curled into the most sadistic smirk he'd ever seen. "Tomorrow morning?

"You're screwed."


End file.
